A Very Long Engagement
by love.devil.movies.baby
Summary: Sequel to Aftermath. It's been a year since our favorite couple got together and George is ready to take their relationship to the next level. Too bad all of his friends and family keep getting in the way. George/Angelina and other character romances.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I'm baaaaack. I figured I got a positive enough response from Aftermath to justify writing a sequel. So here it is! Tell me what you think!**

**Disclaimer: Once again, I don't own any of the characters nor am I making any money for writing about them. It is simply an exercise in creativity. All credit for the characters goes to Miss J.K. Rowling.**

* * *

Even though he was asleep, George Weasley recognized that something was off. To be more specific, he realized that something was missing. He groggily reached out for the other side of his bed, his fingers grasping at empty air. This was sufficient enough reason for him to stir out of deep sleep and make his way back into the world of the waking. He blearily blinked his light brown eyes open and confirmed his suspicions.

Half of his bed was empty.

There was a time when, for George, this was nothing new. It was pretty discouraged at Hogwarts to sneak members of the opposite sex into your bed, and it was almost a certainty that if the professors didn't catch you, your roommates would be none too pleased. Luckily for George, he had left Hogwarts a few years back and was now free to share his bed with whoever he chose. And he had chosen Angelina Johnson.

Considering the circumstances, he was lucky she was in his bed at all. In school, she had briefly dated George's twin brother, Fred. The fact had kept them platonically friends during the rest of school, and for a few years afterward. And then the war happened and Fred had died. And through the pain, Angelina was there. And so George, being a typical male (and a Weasley to boot) hemmed and hawed and denied his feelings for his female best friend and counterpart. But eventually, after what could be considered a one-night stand (the greatest of his life) and a few minor (well, sort of) incidents of drama, he had asked her out.

Angelina had been his bedmate, girlfriend, and love-of-his life for nearly a year now. As a result, George had become accompanied to her presence every morning. It had started off innocently enough. Angie worked for him and one late night in the office she was too tired to go home, so she crashed in his room. It started happening more frequently until it went from a few times a month, to a few times a week. Then her roommate Alicia Spinnet and Lee Jordan had shacked up (a side effect to being married) and Angie found herself without a place to live, a condition that George quickly remedied. It was still all very unofficial; she insisted that she wouldn't live with a man before she was married, or at very least engaged. So technically, she only slept there, and at other times did more then sleep, a convenient perk to her staying over.

But she was not there now. George mustered enough will to sit up and look 'round his room. His apartment, once bare except for the basic necessities and cauldrons teaming with half-finished joke products, now had traces of her feminine touch everywhere. His couch had throw pillows, his coffee table had coasters, the little window above the kitchen sink had lacy drapes and a potted flower in the window sill and Angie had put something called a duvet on his bed, a thing she assured him was an absolute necessity. George complained, but he didn't take them down. He figured she was owed something for putting up him. Besides, (and he would only admit this to himself) he kind of liked it. Alright, he bloody loved it. Because he bloody loved her.

"Ange?" he yawned out her name into the quiet of his bedroom. He pushed his disheveled red hair out of his eyes. It was getting long again, something his mother never failed to berate him for. In response, the bathroom door swung open to reveal his girlfriend. She had a fluffy robe wrapped around her body, concealing the smooth, dark chocolate colored skin and lean muscle beneath. She had taken to wearing her hair long and curly, it fell across her forehead in an un-styled coif. She smiled at him, revealing the perfect pearls shelled behind perfect lips.

"Good morning," she murmured cheerfully.

"Un-uh," George protested when he saw the time gleaming at him from the bedside clock. "It's before 7 in the bloody morning. What are you doing out of bed, woman?" he wasn't worried that she'd be offended. They had teased each other since they were 11 years old and had no intention of ever stopping. She walked slowly back to her side and lowered herself to the bed.

"We've gotten up earlier then this," she argued.

"Except it's Saturday. And I was planning on us sleeping in." He had already rolled over and was now mumbling into his pillow.

"And I planned on making you breakfast," she moved to stand up again. "You can just keep your lazy arse in bed." he heard the amusement in her tone. He reached for her and caught her around the waist, yanking her back down toward him.

"You love my lazy arse. Admit it Johnson."

"You're going to have to pry it out of me Weasley," she challenged. George pulled her hard to the bed and began to tickle her mercilessly.

"Admit it!" he teased.

"No!" she squealed as he found the sensitive are beneath her rib cage, but still managed to hit him roundly with her pillow.

He shook it off and pulled her under him. "Admit it," he demanded again, this time trying a different tactic. He kissed her softly behind her ear.

"So what if I do? I want to make you breakfast, but you want to stay in bed…" her lower lip jutted out in a mock-pout. George smiled.

"How about you stay in bed for another few hours, and when we get up, we'll make each other breakfast?" he kissed her chin as she pretended to think it over.

"Will you make me pancakes?" she asked seriously.

"Chocolate chip," he promised.

"Well, alright then. But they better be bloody fantastic pancakes Weasley." George shut her up with a kiss. She kissed him back eagerly. He was just beginning to think of something he would much rather do then sleep when something rocketed through the window of the room and hit the bed in an explosion of grey and brown feathers. They were both up and had their wands trained on the object in an instance. Pigwidgeon, the thing in question, hooted up at them from the middle of the comforter. Angelina exhaled a little giggle of relief but George felt rather annoyed. Leave it to his brother to meddle in other people's love lives without even being there. He picked up the little owl and untied the letter around it's foot. Pig bounced excitedly across the bed to Angelina who set about cooing over it girlishly. George watched her in amusement for a moment. Sensing his gaze, she looked up at him.

"Oh, shut up, George," she snapped when she saw his smirk. She too smiled though. "What does the letter say?"

"I don't know, but it better be damn important." Angie laughed a little at his obvious annoyance. She kissed his cheek.

"Well, what's it say?" she repeated, blowing multicolored bubbles out of her wand that Pig was happy to chase about the ceiling. George unrolled the tiny parchment scroll to read his youngest brother Ron's handwriting. Untidy at the best of times, it now looked as though Ron had lost his quill and instead chosen to write the letter using Pig's feet. George was forced to squint at it a moment before he could discern what it was saying.

_**George, **_

_**Mum said she was going to stop by this morning and surprise you with breakfast. You'd better act fast before you surprise her with Angelina being there. Remember how mad she was at Hermione and I? And you aren't even engaged. Tell Angie to apparate over here. Hermione has an outfit for her and everything.**_

_**Ron,**_

_**P.S. I would move rather quickly if I were you. Mum can hear a person disapparate from a mile away.**_

"Ah hell," George muttered after he read the note aloud. Angelina was already up and gathering her clothing. "Now I won't get to sleep in or eat pancakes."

Angelina laughed. "I'm sure your mommy will make you pancakes if you ask politely." she teased. He stuck his tongue out at her.

"I like your pancakes better," he stood up to help her.

"Don't tell her that," Angie admonished, straightening up once all of her belongings were gathered up. "And you still owe me chocolate chip pancakes."

"And you owe me a few hours in bed," he fired back. She gave him a mischievous smile.

"Rain check for tomorrow morning?" she asked.

"On the Lord's day? Miss Johnson, I do believe someone had corrupted your innocence." he quipped.

"Really? When I catch that red-headed bastard I'm going to have to make him pay." she pinched him.

"Promise?" he kissed her once more, long and hard, before she pulled away.

"I have to go." she gave him a brief peck. "I love you."

"I love you too. See you in a few hours." She smiled. "Come on Pig," she summoned the owl to her, grasped it and with a pop, she was gone.

George fell backwards into bed, watching the charmed bubbles pop and float down to his face. He closed his eyes, determined to look like he had been sleeping when his mother arrived. He didn't even get to pretend for a minute when he heard the bell to the front entrance of the store ring. He let it ring twice more for appearances before he pulled himself out of bed and down the stairs of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, his joke shop and he and Fred's life's work. His brother grinned cheekily at him from his portrait above the cash register.

"Sleep well there, George?" he asked suggestively. George mirrored his grin.

"Would have been better if mum hadn't showed up."

"She does tend to spoil things of that sort. Ah well, at least she has food." Fred sympathized. "I saw her putting it together from my other portrait. It looks good. She wants you to call Angie round to join you." Fred and George grinned identical grins.

"I'll have to invite her then." Fred laughed.

"I'll be round Hogwarts. Peeves is pulling a prank today with one of the suits of armor in the 4th floor corridor. Can't miss it."

"Have fun," George waved at his brother's picture, but Fred was already gone. He swung the door open to admit his mother, Molly Weasley, into the shop. She was plump as ever, but her cheeks had more color to them now since the war. She was in full mother-mode, a basket of food on her arm. She admonished him the moment she entered.

"Goodness George. How long were you going to keep me out in the cold?" Before he could answer she seized his face between her hands. "Hair's getting a bit long. It makes you look peaky. I'll have to give it a trim before I leave. I just gave Victorie's hair a cut. Second one this month. I swear, her hair grows like Devil's Snare. It must be the Veela blood. It just doesn't mix well with Weasley hair…" she bustled in, conjuring a table and chairs with her wand and set her food down on it.

"G'morning, Mum. Did you have to come so early?" George kissed her on the top of her head.

"Yes. It was the only time. I've got to be at Ron's place later today. Hermione's gown needs fitting. Goodness knows I wish they wouldn't live together. But what can I do? I'm only his mother, what do I know about what's good for him?" Hermione and Ron's living arrangements were still a sore spot. George disguised his smile. His mother would be none too pleased if she found out about Angie. "Now I've got coffee, eggs and pastries. Why don't you owl Angelina and we can have a nice breakfast. Such a good girl, with such good morals."

George hastily made his escape to write his note, laughing about what his mother's face would look like if she knew what not-so-innocent way they had gotten together in her own house that New Years.


	2. Chapter 2

Weasley's Wizard Wheezes was packed, as usual. Angelina was trying to reorder shelves in the back. It was proving quite impossible. Every time she restacked a product, a child ran by and knocked it over again. She finally gave up with a frustrated huff and marched into George's office behind the counter.

"We need to invent something that's like an instant cleaner or something!" George struggled to keep the smile off of his face. Angie's hair was coming out of it's braid and she had her no-nonsense face on.

"We can work on it tonight," he assured her. "I think I've got a pretty good idea about how we could do that."

"I was thinking," she walked over and sat on the edge of his desk. "That maybe we could charm an object, like a stuffed toy or something," she began to redo her braid, meticulously removing the clips and lying them on the desk.

"A toy?" he asked her, picking up one of her hair things.

"In the Muggle world," she snatched the clip back from him, "they have children's toys that are like tiny robots." George cocked an eyebrow. "We can charm a toy, or any object really--"

"To clean up. Like a miniature house-elf." he finished her thought.

"Exactly. And if we do it well-enough--"

"--we can give Hermione one on the wedding--"

"--and she can show people at the ministry--"

"Since she's so big on house-elf rights." George grinned. "And that takes care of the wedding present problem."

Angelina finished re-braiding her hair. She studied him for a moment. "You opened another shop, Bill and Fleur had their baby, Hermione and Ron are getting married, Ginny's gone pro in Quidditch, Harry, Ron and Hermione will be starting at the Ministry soon, Percy's got a girlfriend." She ticked them off on her fingers, "A lot has happened in a year. A lot of good things." she looked out of the window at Diagon Alley and smiled a little wistfully.

"I know. Everyone is getting married. All of our mates, all of my family…" he watched her play with things on his desk. George could guess what she was thinking, or rather, hoping for. He grasped her hand and pulled her to him. "I love you Ange," he kissed her on the cheek.

"I love you too," she smiled brightly at him.

"You know," George began rather nervously, "about the whole getting married thing…" He was interrupted by Ron bursting into his office. His younger brother's hair was disheveled and sticking out at odd angles. His pale skin was flushed bright red and he was breathing hard.

"I need a place to hide!" he yelled, panicked.

"Ron, what the he--" George let go of Angelina's hand to yell at his brother.

"I may have accidentally stained Hermione's dress--"

"Her wedding dress?!" Angelina was up too and looking furious. "How did you do that?! I haven't been gone an hour and you already destroyed it?!"

"It wasn't my fault! Mum was altering it and I was writing a note for the Ministry and Pig knocked the bottle over…"

"Oh, hell Ron. They're going to find you here, you know that right?" He could already hear his mother bursting into the shop. Angelina gave Ron a sympathetic look.

"Since you helped me this morning, I'll do you a favor." she didn't sound happy about it.

"Thanks!" Ron gave her a grateful look.

"Don't mention it," Angelina walked calmly out of the office to head off Ginny, Hermione and Mrs. Weasley. George looked after her for a moment before seizing his brother by the back of the robes.

"Get in the chest behind the desk. You'll come out in the shop in Hogsmeade. You can figure it out from there. I suggest stopping at Honeydukes and getting something nice for your future wife. If she still wants to marry you after this." Ron gave him a horrified look.

"Do you think--" George shoved him toward the chest.

"Go!" he laughed. Ron nodded and jumped in. Instead of hitting the bottom he kept sliding until the top of his red head disappeared. George flipped the lid shut just in time to watch his female family members barrel into his office.

"Where is he?" Hermione's bushy hair stuck up around her head. She had fire in her eyes. George's mother and sister flanked her. Angelina shot him an apologetic look from behind.

"Where's who?" George evaded like a pro.

"You know who!" Ginny interjected from behind her future sister-in-law. "Ron!"

"What did the little git do now?" George asked nonchalantly.

"He destroyed her wedding dress!" Ginny answered furiously. She gestured to Hermione, who was clearly near tears and in Mrs. Weasley's arms.

"Now, now dear. It's nothing a stain charm can't remove. We'll fix it up." Molly rubbed her shoulders comfortingly.

"But it's not the same!" Hermione sobbed into his mother's robes. "He's seen the dress now. It's bad luck!" Ginny glowered at George, then went to comfort Hermione.

"Well now. You do realize that if he didn't live there he wouldn't have seen the dress, much less ruined it." Angelina's eyes widened at Molly's comment and she quickly beat it out of the office. George hastily sought his escape as well.

"Got to go to work mum. But Hermione, try this," he tossed her a small can. "It'll take a stain out of anything. Trust me." he quickly walked around his family and out into the shop. Behind him, Ginny had discovered the chest and was climbing in after Ron. Without warning, the chest spit both her and Ron out, throwing them unceremoniously on the floor of George's office. George shut the door behind him quickly and put the muffliato charm on it. He looked back into the shop. Angelina was behind the counter, doubled over in laughter.

"I love your family." she managed to force out in between fits of giggles.

"I'm glad love. You'll probably be part of it one day." Angelina's head snapped around.

"What do you mean?" another interruption materialized, this time in the form of a wave of customers. George was pulled away and Angie went back to work. By the time it was time to close shop the two of them had a half hour to get ready for Ron and Hermione's rehearsal dinner at the Burrow. She apparated to Alicia and Lee's house to get ready, giving him a quick kiss before she left and telling him he better wear nice robes.

George finished getting dressed and patted his pocket to make sure he had everything. He felt his keys and his wand. He fished deeper and retrieved a small, square velvet box. He studied it for a moment before flipping it open. The princess cut gleamed up at him for a moment before he shut the box and tucked it safely back into pocket. He checked his appearance one more time in the mirror.

It was time.


	3. Chapter 3

The Burrow was lit up more brightly than if it was Christmas time. Mrs. Weasley had outdone herself; their were floating, bauble-like lanterns glowing all over the garden, the house had a new layer of paint on it and the gnomes were mysteriously absent from the garden. The chicken coop, now devoid of chickens, shook menacingly. George suspected that it housed the little potato-shaped occupants. Music was floating through the window and toward them, mixing with the warm smell of spring grass and flowers. Angelina knocked on the door and the two stood hand in hand, waiting.

It was Hermione who answered, looking considerably more cheerful than she had that morning.

"Hello," she greeted brightly. Her wild brown hair was once again sleek and pulled into a pretty updo.

"Hey there Hermione." Angelina hugged her warmly. "You're looking happy."

"Got the dress problem sorted then?" George patted her on the back. Hermione glowered a bit, but then smiled a little weakly.

"We got the stain out. And I transfigured it a little bit so Ron wouldn't recognize it." she admitted.

"So you and Ron made up then?" Angelina asked.

"After a pretty decent row, yeah." George grinned, imagining what kind of curse Ron had to take to get back in her good graces. He moved to go inside and look for himself. Hermione shut the door once they were inside and then hurried off to help Mrs. Weasley in the kitchen. Harry and Ginny waved cheerily at them and Angelina swept off to coo over Bill and Fleur's new baby, Victorie. George shook his brother's and father's hands, greeted Percy's girlfriend and hugged his sister and mother before he located his youngest brother.

"Alright there, Ron?" he tapped his brother on the shoulder. Ron jumped about a foot in the air at George's voice.

"Oh, hey." he breathed a moment later, after George's laughter had subsided. "You startled me."

"Never would have guessed, little bro," he handed Ron a frosty, bottled, butterbeer. "Hermione cursed you that bad, did she?"

"She didn't actually. But she wouldn't stop bloody crying. And then mum wouldn't let up either, and we got in an argument. Blimey, I can't wait until I'm married and she can't harp on us for living together... And then Ginny pulled me out of the trunk and started yelling, and I started yelling back…"

"Did she use the Bat-bogey Curse?" George asked sympathetically.

"She did. And then once I could breathe well enough to get the counter curse out, Hermione had stopped crying. And then she was yelling too." George patted his back. "that was a dirty trick, by the way."

George raised an eyebrow. "What was?"

Ron glared. "You could have told me the trunk was locked on the other side. I nearly suffocated before Gin pulled me out. I couldn't even apparate in there."

George laughed. "Sorry mate. But I really forgot it was locked. I'll remember to unlock the other one next time I'm in Hogsmeade." Ron continued to glower but bucked up once Harry came round and began to chat about the Ministry. Both were in Auror training, and it would soon be over. The two were excited about the prospect of starting work. They talked animatedly until Hermione and Ginny informed them that the rehearsal dinner was soon going to start.

The whole Weasley troop, including Andromeda and Teddy, herded themselves outside. Molly insisted that they conduct the rehearsal before dinner (this was met with much grumbling by the male population). George faithfully stood to the right of his brothers and Harry and watched Ron and Hermione exchange mock vows. Across the aisle Angie beamed at him, and the two traded stupid faces for the other's amusement and to see who would crack and laugh first. Angie did, as usual, and was rewarded with a glare from both Ron and Hermione's mothers. In retaliation, George got his foot trod on when they walked back down the aisle. After rehearsal concluded they all packed into the chairs around the four tables Arthur had pushed together earlier that evening. It was crowded but comfortable. George sat elbow to elbow with both Angelina and Fleur. He didn't mind that he was forced to use magic to be able to reach for the gravy boat a few feet away; his family had expanded, and was still expanding. It felt right.

Angelina seemed to be enjoying herself as well. She and Ginny were good-naturedly arguing over Quidditch. Harry, Ron and Hermione were reminiscing about some trouble they had gotten into in school. Percy was talking animatedly to his father about Ministry business, and his girlfriend, Audrey, was clearing hitting it off well with Fleur. Molly was arguing with both Bill and himself over the length of (what else?) their hair. Angelina intervened after a few minutes to tell Molly that she agreed and would be trimming it for him before the wedding. She winked at George. She was the reason he let it get long in the first place. She loved it that way.

The night wore on but the festivities showed no sign of slowing. After dinner their was a quick hiatus in which they played a few games of three-a-side Quidditch, and then dessert came out: a giant treacle pudding. Full and satisfied, they lounged about the garden. Someone had turned on the wireless and music was playing softly in the background. It was perfect.

George glanced over at his girlfriend. Her eyes were closed and she was laying in his lap contently. He fingered the box in his pocket nervously.

"Hey Ange?" he began.

"Hmmmm?" she muttered lowly. One eye popped open to regard him curiously.

"I wanted to ask you something--"

George was cut off by a scream cutting through the pristine quiet. Audrey was jumping up and down squealing and Percy had turned beet red. Angelina looked at George questioningly then turned to the couple across the yard. Percy and Audrey held the rest of the family's attention now as well. George scrutinized them, trying to see what was the matter. He noticed Percy had grass stains on his knees. Like he had been kneeling. Oh bloody hell. There was no way…

Audrey responded to the confused looks she was getting by holding up her left hand. On the ring finger gleamed a brand new gold band with a diamond in it. The yard exploded in congratulations. George sat baffled.

His brother Percy, _Percy_ who had never beaten him at anything except maybe grades, Percy who had only asked his girl out 6 months ago…Percy had beaten him to proposing.

Oh the fates were cruel. He briefly considered this was karma for he and Fred's treatment of their older brother. He sighed almost inaudibly and dropped his ring back into his pocket. No point in begrudging his brother this. George stood up and joined the fray of jumping squealing people and gave his brother a bracing hug.

Proposing now would have been cliché anyway, he thought as he helped Angelina into her jacket. He was too creative for that. Better to do it in an original way. If he and Percy had formulated the same plan he must have been losing his touch.

Yes, he pondered as he hugged and kissed his family goodbye, there was a better time to do it. If only he could think of one.

"Looks like there are going to be two Weasley weddings," Angelina remarked as she hung her coat on the hook in his flat (another of her additions. Normally his clothing wound up on the floor).

"With five of us dating, it was bound to happen," he remarked easily. He quickly removed the box from his pocket and tucked it into his safe.

"I would have never suspected Percy though! I thought for sure Harry would have beat him to the punch…" she mused.

Or me, George thought darkly. His mood took a brighter turn though when Angelina wound her arms around his neck.

"What were you going to ask me earlier?" she practically whispered it in his ear.

"I forgot." he stammered. He returned her embrace by grasping her around the hips. Their lips met easily in a kiss. Angelina pulled away first and looked at him slyly.

"You owe me breakfast tomorrow…" she sat on the edge of his bed and crossed her legs.

George cocked a brow. "I do." he agreed.

"So do you want to get a jump start on those hours I owe you?" she asked saucily.

George tackled her to the bed and quite forgot about planning a proposal. It could wait until after breakfast…


	4. Chapter 4

"Hold still!" Angelina huffed, frustrated. It had been a week since the rehearsal dinner. True to her word, Angie was attempting to make George's hair presentable for the wedding the next night. George was making it difficult. She dropped a lock of red hair on the counter near the sink and regarded her boyfriend like a mother would a petulant child.

"Ange! Don't cut it so short!" George squirmed away. Angelina sighed and slammed her wand down.

"Fine then. You do it!" She stormed out of the bathroom. George wasn't worried. A week wasn't complete unless they had an argument. They were even more common around family gatherings. Angie always had to look her best for his family (which was bollucks really, since they loved her) and he was always on edge when they went to see her family (her sisters liked to put him through his paces). George knew that she was probably going to the kitchen to make some tea. In a half hour she would be cooled down. It was just how their relationship worked. George picked up his own wand and looked in the mirror.

She hadn't done a bad job. One half of his hair was trimmed exactly the way he liked it. Unfortunately, the other side still hung over his ear and eye. He studied it for a moment before he resigned himself to the fact that there was a reason she always cut his hair. He was terrible at it.

"Ange!" he called and was rewarded with silence. "Angie!" he tried again, this time striding out of the bathroom and into the kitchen. She was indeed stationed at the counter, stirring her tea. She glanced up at him.

"That's a good look for you," she remarked calmly and turned her attention back to her mug of tea.

"Everything is a good look for me. But I reckon mum won't like it." she didn't crack a smile. "Ah, come on Ange. You know I'm a baby when it comes to things like that."

She arched a brow. "That's for sure. I don't know what you want me to do about it." she took a sip of steaming tea.

George sidled up to her side. "You could finish my hair." he suggested.

"Or I could finish my tea," she turned her back to him.

"Hermione might be sore at you if I show up to her wedding tomorrow night looking like this." he tried again.

She shrugged. "She'll be sore at _you_. And don't worry, my hair will look so fantastic it will hardly matter. Everyone looks at me anyway." She sipped her tea again to hide her smirk. George looked at her hair, all done up in neon pink rollers, and grinned cheekily.

"I think you must be mistaken, Miss Johnson. Everyone knows I'm the better looking one." her head whipped around.

"Oh bugger off, George. You're such a tosser." she said pleasantly. "I'm clearly more beautiful. And if you want your hair finished, you'll agree with me." she set her mug down and crossed her arms.

"You win." George held up his hands in defeat.

"I always win," she said simply. "Remember that, and things will be a lot easier." George laughed. She rinsed her cup out and kissed him. "Let's fix your hair; you look like a nutter."

An half hour later, they were packing for the wedding. George was going to spend the night at the Burrow and Angelina was going to stay with Hermione. George was rocking a uniformly short hairdo and was struggling to find his cufflinks. He waved his wand experimentally, summoning two pairs of socks, three shirts and a pair of Angie's earrings before he found them buried at the bottom of a stack of parchment. Angie was running around similarly, trying to find her missing shoe. Half of her hair had fallen out of the rollers and her toothbrush hung haphazardly from her mouth.

George collided with her as he tried to stuff his dress shirt into his suitcase. She fell backward and took out the desk behind her. He helped her up as she berated him for not folding his tux first. He insisted he could unwrinkled it with a spell tomorrow, but she flicked her wand and sent his outfit soaring orderly into his bag. She then went to work on her own things.

It was then that George realized that his girlfriend had a massive amount of belongings. Her hair products had taken over his bathroom, her shoes were in his closet, and he had feminine hygiene products under his sink. He watched her jam them all into her own bag and came to a conclusion.

They had too much stuff for this apartment. He didn't know when he had began to think of it as "our apartment" and "our stuff." It had always been "our" when Fred was alive. After he died, it was an adjustment getting "our" to "my." But he had Angie now and he was back to being one half of a couple.

And they needed more space. He supposed he could magically expand the area, but he couldn't live above his flat forever. Besides, he was making more than enough money to afford a house. A house for the two of them to build a family.

The issue was she had made it very clear that there would be no official cohabitating without a ring or two on her finger. Which brought him back to his current predicament. How was he going to pop the question?

"George?" Angelina's voice startled him out of his thoughts. "Could you zip me up?" she turned around and he jerked the zipper of her dress up. "It's weird that tomorrow Hermione and Ron are going to be married," she remarked.

"They've been arguing like they were already married for years. Bout time they made it official." Angelina laughed.

"Remember the Yule Ball?" she asked.

"I thought for sure the little git was going to ask her then. But he waited too long." George shook his head.

"He's not the only one who waited too long," she looked pointedly at him but smiled.

George's cheeks colored. "Sorry. But Fred and I both fancied you and he beat me to it."

"He asked me twice you know," Angelina fluffed her hair experimentally.

"He did?" this was news to George. It seemed he and Fred didn't share everything.

"Uh-huh. You know how you two were always trying to set up Ron and Hermione?" George nodded. "Well," she continued. "Fred wanted to play matchmaker for you too." George looked confused. "When he asked me the first time, I told him no because I liked you," she smirked at George's expression. "So he came up with this plan for us to go together and pretend we were dating for a little while. He thought it might, you know, spur you into action." she looked sheepishly down at her shoes.

"Well, it made me realize I fancied you. But I figured Fred did too, so…" Angelina shrugged.

"It took a few years. But here we are, Weasley." she smiled up at him.

"Here we are…" he agreed. She kissed him on the cheek. "Hey Ange?"

"Yup," she bent down to put on her earrings.

"I was thinking that maybe the flat up here is getting too small." she looked up at him.

"What do you mean?" her face contorted into a concerned expression.

"I was thinking that maybe…" he rubbed the back of his neck nervously, "I would get a bigger place. You know…there are some nice places out in the country…"

"You want to move?" she asked.

"Well, I was just thinking eventually…" Angelina studied him for a moment.

"If you move," she said finally, "I can stay up here. And that solves my housing problem." her face split into a wide grin. "I think it's a great idea, love!" she kissed him again.

George's eye twitched. That is not what he had in mind…

"Yeah…" he struggled to maintain his smile.

Angelina looked at her watch. "Oh bloody hell! We were supposed to leave a half hour ago! Let's go!" she grabbed her bag and disapparated before he could even blink. Once alone, George sighed.

This was harder than he thought.


	5. Chapter 5

Molly Weasley was absolutely mental. George thought she had been bad when Fleur and Bill had gotten hitched. Apparently, that was nothing. Due to the unfortunate way that the wedding had been forced to end, his mother was determined to make amends. Amends meant that this wedding had to be bigger, better and have way more food.

A most terrifying side effect was that her already short temper seemed to have hit an all time low. She was bellowing right now for George to get off his lazy arse and help her de-gnome the garden. George was seriously contemplating just disapparating to somewhere far, far away. He had no such luck. His mother cornered him, and at wand point forced him outside. De-gnoming was far less fun without a partner; George found himself tossing the hairy little buggers much farther with much less mirth than usual. He was just beginning to fancy punting one over the low garden wall when Harry made an appearance.

"Things have gotten a bit mental in there. I thought I'd escape for a moment," he greeted.

"That's fine with me mate," George tossed him a gnome. They worked in comfortable silence for a while, chuckling occasionally when they heard his Mum berating yet another unfortunate bystander.

"So how are things with you and Ange?" Harry asked at long last. George shrugged, remembering the night before.

"They're great. I just…" he shook his head, unable to find the words.

"Ready to make the next commitment, but you don't know how?" George looked at his surrogate brother with a startled expression. He wasn't aware that mind reading was a perk of being the Chosen One.

"Yeah, something like that." George looked away and attempted dropping a gnome onto his foot. He was able to kick it about ten yards. The gnome spun around dizzily for a moment, then made a rather foul hand-gesture at George. He was forced to retrieve it and try again the old fashioned way. Harry watched in amusement for a while. George could tell he was debating saying something. "Just spit it out already Potter. You're going to have a fit if you hold your breath any longer."

Harry made a sound somewhere between a choke and a laugh. "Alright then. I'm going to ask your sister to marry me."

Whatever George had been expecting, this was not it. He hit his toe on the wall as he reattempted to score a field goal with a live creature.

"What?!" he sputtered then swore as the little bugger bit him.

"Yeah," Harry had the good grace to ignore the gnome and look him in the eyes as he spoke. "I was actually going to ask at the dinner. But Percy beat me to it. Who'd have thought, you know?" George stared dumbly in reply, so Harry continued. "I know it's soon and it's cliché and all to ask at a wedding, but I had to leave her once and I never want to again. I figure with me starting at the Ministry and her on the Harpies, it'll be a long engagement. But I just want her to know that…" Harry seemed to deflate and lose his nerve. He wound up staring at George's bleeding leg. "Here, let me," Harry waved his wand and healed the cut. George was still to flabbergasted to thank him.

He was being thwarted, not once, but twice. His younger siblings were all going to be engaged before him. Bollucks, at the rate he was going they would be married before he even found a time to pop the question. Bloody hell…

"So I already told your dad. And I think Ron knows it's coming, as does Bill. But I figured I'd give you a heads up." he looked at him expectantly. George was vaguely aware that now was an opportune time to say something nice.

"Congratulations." he forced out. "She's good for you, you know?" Harry sighed in relief and George felt he needed to say something more as Ginny's big brother. "and if you hurt her, I'll find a way to kill you without an Unforgivable Curse." Harry laughed a little.

"Fair enough. If I hurt her again, I'll just do away with myself. If I can beat Gin to it," George laughed with Harry.

"Good luck with that, mate. You're going to send mum into a right state. She'll be going on about how you're going to be 'really part of the family' for weeks before we can shut her up. Like you weren't already a part of the family." Harry looked moved by this.

"Thanks George." George patted him bracingly on the back. "So what about you and Ange then?" Harry asked again.

George shrugged. "She's brilliant. I'm thinking about asking her to move in with me." Harry raised a brow. "Officially." George clarified. If Ron knew about his living arrangements, it was a sure thing that Harry and Hermione knew as well. "But I don't think she will until we're married."

"Tough luck. You'd better get a ring then, eh?" Harry smirked.

"I've got one. Trouble is I can't find a time to ask. All the most romantic times seem taken." Harry looked confused for a spilt second, then understanding spread across his face and colored his cheeks.

"Oh, hell. Sorry there George."

"No problem. I'm not really a conventional guy. So it figures A conventional way of asking wouldn't work. Something will come to me." Harry nodded.

Their conversation was cut short by the screech of Mrs. Weasley.

"Boys! Get in here and wash up!" George and Harry exchanged scared glances then quickly finished up and made their way back to the house. "You've only got two more hours and I still have to set up the tables! I can't dress you too!" Charmed beauty products were working furiously on her hair and makeup. She looked insane.

"I set the tables up, Mrs. Weasley." Harry explained good naturedly. "And the chairs and everything are set up. So it's all ready to go." She smiled kindly at him.

"Thank-you, Harry dear. And you," she rounded on her son, "I hope that garden is gnome free!"

George resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "They're all gone and I locked the gate and enchanted the wall so they can't get back in. Relax Mum." this last comment got him another five minute lecture from which Harry mysteriously slipped away. By the time he escaped upstairs, his ears were ringing.

He opened the door of his bedroom to find Ron hyperventilating on his bed. "Ron, you'd better get ready before Mum see you--"

Ron leapt up. "I can't!" he blurted.

George rolled his eyes. "You can. See first you start with the undergarments, then you might want to move on to pants. I know cufflinks are complicated, but I'll show you how--"

"No, I mean. I can't get married. I'm rubbish with women! What is I screw up and Hermione leaves? What if she doesn't come at all?! Oh bugger…" Ron set about pacing and hyperventilating.

"I've been dealing with this for a bloody half an hour." A voice like his sounded from behind him. George turned to see Fred sitting in the painting of a carnival. George and Charlie had gone through the house one day and put a painting in every room so Fred could have full range of the house. His twin was rolling his eyes in exasperation right now, while picking at a violently pink mass of cotton candy.

George sighed. "Want me to try?" Fred nodded.

"Or just curse him so he shuts up. I can't bloody take it anymore. The only reason I'm in here is because Mum's gone nuts downstairs." George shot his brother's portrait a sympathetic look. They both looked up at Ron. He now looked as though losing consciousness was imminent. George sighed. Then he took a step forward and slapped his brother. Behind him, Fred sniggered.

"Good one."

"Thanks." George waved his wand to produce an icepack for Ron's face. Ron looked angry for a moment, then shocked. George handed him the ice. "Put this on your face and listen very carefully because I only have the time to say this once. You're right."

"I'm right?" Ron did not looked comforted by this.

"Yes." George confirmed and Fred's painting nodded in confirmation. "You are complete rubbish with women. Except one. For whatever reason, you're good for Hermione and she's good for you. And the rest of us had to wait 7 years for the two of you to get your bloody acts together, and I'm not putting on a damn tux so you can sit in here hyperventilating like a pansy. You're going to get married. And you two will get on each other's nerves and she'll curse you and you'll holler at her, and you'll make up. Because that is what you have always done. Now you're just going to do it in a shared space with rings on your fingers. And perhaps a ginger, bushy-headed, buck-toothed, socially awkward genius child or two. So put your tux on. Or I'll hit you harder this time."

Ron looked stunned.

"Well said," Fred complimented again.

After a moment, Ron stood up, still clutching the ice to his face. "Thanks George. Fred." he hugged George and nodded at Fred. Downstairs the kitchen clock chimed.

"Oh bugger, I've got only an hour and a half to get ready!" George nodded. With another thank you Ron tore from the room.

"Mental, that one," Fred remarked casually and pulled off another piece of cotton candy.

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**A/N: Thanks so much for the feedback. I'm glad you like it. I know this chapter had no romance, but there is romance coming up, so no worries! Tell me what you think!**


	6. Chapter 6

George had the opportunity to see his girlfriend for about five seconds before the wedding. The women arrived in a cloud of beauty products and mild panic. Angelina had spared him a quick kiss and a wave before she was pulled off, curlers and all, upstairs. George was forced to go check on Ron again. Luckily he was doing much better, but he was still in a right state. Without enough time to make a potion for his nerves, George retrieved a bottle of fire whisky, conjured up a shot glass and gave it to his brother. He knew his mum would kill him, but she would massacre him and Ron both if Ron screwed up the wedding. His brother would be fine; he could hold his liquor.

After some more mild incidents of stress, the men made it outside. The setup was similar to Fleur and Bill's except the colors were a bit brighter and more reminiscent of Spring. Ron and Hermione (well, Hermione really) had chosen pastels in peach and light blue. The men each had some sort of peach rose tucked into their button holes and George had heard from Angelina that the bridesmaid dresses were blue. Streamers hung from the progression benches that sat facing a white archway covered in hundreds of delicate blossoms that swung attractively on their own and seemed to be releasing a sweet perfume into the air. Ron stood front and slightly to the right under the archway. George, Harry, Bill, Charlie and Percy stood to his right. Fre'd portrait hung from the tree next to them, the frame shining brightly. They all noticed that while his face was the picture of collectedness, Ron's ears had turned a frightening shade of scarlet and his breathing seemed labor. Harry, being the best man, fell on that grenade and gave Ron some sort of bracing speech and a pat on the back. Ron looked relieved and his ears lightened, but his breathing was still ragged. George gave up. He'd start to fret if Ron passed out. Until then, he stood with his brothers and soon to be brother-in-law and waited for the girls.

The trill of a wedding march announced the arrival of the bridal party. First came the flower girl, Victorie, in her mother's arms. Fleur used her wand to drape petals from the little wicker basket her daughter was holding. Both were indeed dressed in a lovely shade of light blue. Next, Molly Weasley and Mrs. Granger brought up the front. Both women were tearing up. Then came Angelina, followed closely by Parvati Patel and strangely enough, Lavender Brown. She and Hermione had formed an unlikely friendship at the close of the war. Ginny walked down the aisle next, clutching her father's arm and positively beaming at Harry. George snuck a look. Harry was beaming too. And last, but certainly not least, the music changed and the progression rose to watch Hermione Granger walk in on the arm of her father.

She looked stunningly beautiful, even to George who had never seen her in that light. Her thick mane of hair was swept back into loose tendrils and secured with a diamond studded tiara. Nestled within the curls were the same flowers that adorned the archway. Her dress was a clean, gleaming white. It's straps hung loosely, exposing her shoulders and upper back. There was tiny detailed beading in silver all through the tight bodice and flowing skirt, leading to the long train of the dress. Her slender hands and forearms were covered in silk gloves that reached up to her elbow. George noticed that he could no longer hear his brother's breathing. He suspected he had stopped all together.

She made her way to the altar beaming. Ron shook her father's hand then grasped Hermione's. He smiled nervously at her, and she returned it. At the moment George felt very proud of his brother. The ceremony went much more smoothly than the last Weasley wedding and after a half hour, there was yet another Weasley added to the bunch. Throughout the ceremony George snuck peaks at Angelina. She caught his eye and smiled gently. Her hair fell to her shoulders in loose, dark curls and she clutched her small bouquet. The pale blue of the dress looked lovely with her skin color, but George could not help but wonder what she would look like in white.

These thoughts carried him through the wedding and into the reception and even spurred him to plant a very long, very public kiss on his girlfriends lips when they finally had time to talk. Angie looked stunned but rather pleased. He wished he could propose right now. But he'd be a right foul git to steal Harry's thunder.

It took a while for Harry to pop the question. They made it all the way through dinner, first dances and the cake before it happened. Harry stood up to give his customary speech as the best man.

"So I've known Ron and Hermione since we were 11. They were the first real friends I can ever remember having. They stuck by me when I knew nothing about the wizarding world, when I fought against my enemies, when all my other friends and the whole world seemed to turn on me, when I was being a prat," Rona and Hermione laughed, "and in the last war. They were so dedicated in fact, that they put their own relationship on hold. Not that they knew they were doing that." people who knew Hermione and Ron's back story chuckled, and Harry clarified. "You see, I had realized in our second year that perhaps Ron had a thing for our brilliant best friend. And then by the fourth year, it was excessively clear to me that Hermione felt the same. But I didn't try to push them together. You see, I was rubbish at that sort of thing and they were stubborn. Best to let it happen on it's own time. Unfortunately, that time was in the sixth floor corridor in the middle of the Second War. But hey, better late than never, eh?" The crowd roared it's approval. "But one thing that has always been clear is how much you loved each other, and how great you are for each other and what you mean to one another. And to me. You're more family now then mates." Ron looked appreciative and Hermione began to tear up, "And it's thanks to Ron that I met the love of my life and it's thanks to Hermione that I didn't screw it up royally. And so…" Harry sat down his glass and George knew that this was it. "Ginny Weasley, will you marry me and make me an official Weasley?"

Ginny's response was lost in the cry that George's mum emitted at the question and Ron's shocked shout of surprise. George could see his sister nodding yes though, and Harry slipping the ring on her finger. And so, when they toasted the new married couple, they toasted the couple to come as well.

After the commotion calmed down a bit, Angelina and George found a quiet corner to sit.

"Beautiful wedding, eh?" George asked.

"It was," Angelina sighed dreamily. She glanced over at him and smiled.

"Feeling romantic?" George teased. She pushed him lightly.

"A bit yeah. There's been a fair amount of romance going around lately in your family."

"There has," he agreed. "Ron, Percy and now Ginny. That's pretty impressive." Angelina nodded.

"I was thinking," she began, "about how you want to get a new place. What do you want a house for? Am I taking up too much room in the flat? Because I can find another place--" George hurriedly cut her off.

"No, Ange. I love having you around. In fact that's why I want a bigger place." she looked confused. "I want this," he swept his arm around, gesturing to the Weasley yard filled with loved ones. "I want kids and a wife and a big family. And I know who I want those things with. The house is a place to build what my parents have. What your parents have." Angie looked stunned.

"You want a family with me?" she asked in a whisper.

"Of course. Don't you feel the same?" George teased. Angie didn't laugh but instead began to tear up. "Oh Angie," he began, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean--"

"Oh George!" she burst out, cutting him off. "I'm not mad. I'm just really happy. You see, I thought that maybe you didn't want those things and hearing you say that…" she trailed off, at loss for words.

George kissed the top of her head. "So do you want to come house-hunting with me later this week?" Angelina let out a teary laugh and nodded.

"I love you, George Weasley," she said against his lips as she kissed him.

"I love you too, Miss Johnson."

It wasn't a proposal,, but it was a step in the right direction. That was good enough for now. They had a wedding reception to enjoy anyway; there was no time to get sappy as Lee and Neville pulled them back into the foray.

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**A/N: So that was the wedding! I know it wasn't too long, but really, this is George and Angie's story, not Ron and Hermione's. I figured your imaginations could supply a more detailed version of the vows. Review please!**


	7. Chapter 7

"George, when's the last time you did your books?" Angelina stood near George's desk, holding a large leather-bound book. Her face was creased with confusion as she looked over the numbers. She had a quill tucked behind her ear and a bit of ink smudged on her brow. George suspected he looked equally disheveled. It was the end of the month and time to do the books. They had missed last month because it had been George's birthday the next day and they went out instead. George had promised Ange he would do the books the next day. He forgot. He was paying for it now.

"This can't be right," George scowled at the numbers.

Angie sighed, "I think it is. Look," she set the book down in front of him. "both stores keep selling out of merchandise too quickly. And the owl-orders are getting impossible to keep up with. And that's just in Britain. We're starting to get international orders now too. How did that happen?"

"Kingsley took some of my fireworks to the last international conference. Apparently the Swedish leader fell in love with them. He orders some every month. Perhaps it's catching on. Which reminds me, they want to use them for the Cup this year."

Angelina looked up. "The Quidditch Cup?" George nodded. "George! That's fantastic news! You'll be international after something like that. You can sell your products at the match!" Angie beamed.

"Yeah, but if we can't keep up with the owl-orders now, what are we going to do after the Cup?" Her smile drooped slightly.

"We're going to have to expand," the answer came from Fred, who had just wandered into the frame behind George's desk.

"I think you're right mate," George glanced at the numbers. Angelina nodded, then pulled the quill out from behind her ear and began scratching furiously on a piece of parchment. George and Fred watched her for a moment. Angie had always been good with numbers. If anyone could figure out how much they needed to expand, it was her.

"Bloody hell!" she exclaimed after a moment.

"What?" Fred asked.

"Can we afford to expand?" George questioned. Angie seemed at a loss for words. Instead she pushed the parchment in front of him. Fred craned his neck from the frame to look.

"Bugger, is that right?" Fred breathed from behind George.

"I doubled then triple checked my math," Angelina assured them.

"So not only can we afford to expand--" George began.

"You could buy Firebolts for both Quidditch teams at the Cup. And then buy the teams themselves." Fred finished.

"And you haven't even expanded yet," she finished. George sat stunned.

"Blimey George. You wait till I die then you start to get filthy rich!" Fred exclaimed good naturedly. Angelina looked wide-eyed at him.

"Congratulations George," she smiled. George still sat unblinking.

"I think he may have passed out. Smack him or something, Ange," Fred regarded George carefully. This snapped him out of his stupor.

"Well, we can afford that house now, at any rate," he said finally. Angelina sighed.

"I'm still putting in for my half George." she insisted.

"Ange, I already told you. You don't--"

"I do. This is a down payment on our future," she insisted. "I'm going to help." Fred laughed.

"Stubborn she is. Most women would be excited they're dating someone who's about to be filthy rich."

Angelina scowled at him. "That's not why I'm dating George."

"Well, obviously. Don't be thick Fred. Anyone could tell you she's dating me for my good looks and stunning wit," George winked at his girlfriend. She still looked upset.

"Aw, come on, Ange. You know we're just taking the mickey." Fred scratched his nose in an unconcerned manner. But George noticed his girlfriend still looked a little sad.

"Ange, what's really wrong?" she looked like she might deny it for a moment, but then she changed her mind.

"It's just, remember that bloke from the Prophet who came on your last birthday?"

"The one who interviewed me about Fred's portrait?" George raised an eyebrow.

"The same. Well he also asked me a few questions, you know about the merchandise and what I do here. And somehow he knew we were dating. And he implied that I only had a job here because of that, and well…" she paused awkwardly. "that I'm just with you because your business is doing well. And he made me think, that maybe people think that of me. That I'm a gold digger or something." she trailed off when both twins made a sound of disgust.

"I'm going to strangle him!" George got up.

"No!" he looked at his girlfriend in surprise. "I mean, I already told him off pretty soundly." Fred smiled.

"Of course you did."

"Why did you tell me, Ange?" George asked. She looked ashamed.

"I just figured you were busy. And besides, I honestly forgot about it. Until now. No worries though," she smiled a bit weakly.

"Sorry Angie. I was just having a laugh." her smile widened at Fred's portrait.

"I know. No harm done. Besides, we've got a lot of work to do before the World Cup. We'd better get started." she went back to the books.

From his frame Fred shot George a look. George returned it. He was still going to have a word with that reporter.

"Bollucks, I forgot to pick up my sister!" Angelina exclaimed suddenly. "I'll be right back." she disapparated with a pop.

"So when are you going to ask her? You've been trying for what, like three months?" Fred asked the moment she left.

It was true. He had gotten the ring nearly three months ago. Hermione and Ron had been married for almost two months now.

"I think I've got an idea as to how to do it." George swung his chair around to look at his twin.

"I've heard that before. Like when you said you were going to ask her out at Hogwarts or a year ago or…"

"Alright!" George cut him off. "This time I've got a fool-proof plan."

"Do tell," Fred leaned forward with a smirk.

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**A/N: Seriously, I cannot thank you guys enough for the reviews. Some of you always review and it always makes me smile. I'm going to try and thank you all individually the minute school slows down a bit. Thanks again!**


	8. Chapter 8

Expanding was easier said then done. Angelina and George were forced to split up; Angie went to the Hogsmeade location and George stayed on Diagon Alley. Their days were spent interviewing potential employees to manage and stock in both stores while George dedicated himself full-time to inventing and while Angelina helped solve the owl-order problem. In between interviews George hit the real estate market to search for potential new stores. He found a few: one in the countryside, one in France, one in Scotland and one small location for a warehouse to handle owl orders exclusively. The warehouse was to open first in a few months, then when they got that sorted, they would expand around Britain first, then go international. It was all very exciting. And of course, it was all very tiring. The upside to it all was while George looked for potential places to open another store, he was able to look at some houses as well.

He had found the perfect one. It was a two-story converted farmhouse. George thought it looked like something on a post card. It was made entirely of red brick with an expansive red-wood porch and a balcony that looked out over the back yard. It had a small orchard, not nearly as big as his family's but respectable. There was room to begin a garden, and perhaps to put in a pool. The inside of the house was equally charming and consisted of wide open space and large windows. The kitchen was bright and made of wood, giving it a rustic charm. The rest of the house was made of different types of wood as well. There were three bedrooms upstairs and 2 bathrooms, one for the master and one for the smaller two. The house was perfect and cheap. It needed some cleaning up and the wood would need magical reinforcement, some of the fixtures needed to be replaced and the grounds were in desperate need of manicuring. But making a place your own was half the fun. He and Angie would enjoy making it perfect. George smiled and bought it, much to the bewilderment of the Muggle man who sold it to him. He seemed to think it was a dump, but happily signed all of the paperwork over to him. George was forced to perform a small memory charm to make him forget that a property like that even existed. Couldn't have Muggles wandering in once he lived there.

The deed had been tucked in his safe along with the ring for a week now, waiting. He would have liked to do it sooner but he had a plan. He was due to pick up Angie from her parents house, where she had been staying for the last two weeks, later tonight so they could go out to dinner. He had cooked and stowed it all at the new house where the food sat refrigerated, waiting for their arrival.

He knew Ange would love it, but that didn't stop his stomach from turning nervously all day. Fred kept laughing at him from his frame, much to the bewilderment of Lee and Ron who had stopped by earlier that day. George had chosen not to tell anyone just yet. Once they were engaged they would make the announcement.

When closing time finally rolled around George stood in front of the mirror, checking his appearance. Fred observed him idly from the picture next to the mirror.

"Are you sure blue is your color?" he teased. "I always thought it made you look spindly."

"It's Angie's favorite color," George responded without thinking.

"Awww. Aren't you the romantic boyfriend. However, I can't help but think that a truly romantic bloke would ask his girlfriend to marry him on their anniversary.

George shot him a glare. "She was sick. And she would have killed me if I hid the ring in a bowl of chicken noodle soup or something. And believe me, I considered it. No one wants to get proposed to when they can't breathe out of their nose and their eyes are all puffy."

"Are you saying that Angelina wasn't beautiful enough at the time for you to propose to her? I'll tell you twinsy, I never took you to be that shallow. I wonder what Ange will think when I tell her what you said." Fred continued to patronize his brother.

"Bugger off." George tossed a sock at Fred, who ducked out of the frame to avoid it. "I'm nervous enough."

Fred laughed as he inched back into the picture. "Relax. She'll say yes. You've been together for ages."

George nodded, trying to calm himself. "Right."

"And her family likes you and our family likes her."

"Right."

"And she loves you, for whatever reason" George scowled and Fred laughed again, "and that's all that really matters. She'll say yes." Fred assured his twin.

"Thanks. Wish me luck." George tucked the ring and folded piece of paper into his pocket.

"You don't need it, but good luck, I suppose." Fred's portrait rolled it's eyes.

George smirked. "Don't wait up," he told his brother.

"Make good decisions!" Fred's comical warning rang in George's ears as he apparated. He landed with a crack on the front porch of Angelina's parent's house. Angelina had moved back in temporarily when she started working in Hogsmeade. The Johnson resident was a few miles outside of Hogsmeade, just before the Muggle town began. It was a compromise of sorts between Angie's witch mother and Muggle father. They lived in a modest little two story country home. The house always smelled like the sweets Angelina's mother was constantly cooking up and selling to Honeydukes. In school Ange always had sweets brimming from her pockets, a fact that Fred and George had preyed on in their first year.

He knocked on the familiar door. It opened not a second later. Apparently they were expecting him. Angelina's youngest sister Julie stared up wide-eyed at him. She was a fifth year in school now. She looked at him appraisingly.

"Long time no see, George. I was beginning to think that you and Ange broke up." George gave her a lopsided smile. Julie was the most like Angelina as far as sense of humor went.

"No such luck. I've just been busy at the store." Julie laughed and gave him a hug.

"How's the family? We saw your Mum round the apothecary the other day. She was looking chipper."

"They're good. And she's got a granddaughter to dote on now and another wedding to plan. She's beyond chipper. She's mental."

"George!" Angelina's mother, Autumn, swept down the hall and pulled him into a hug. "It's great to see you!"

"How have you been?" he greeted.

"Fantastic. Julie's just finished her O.W.L.s. We'll see this summer how she's done." Julie sensed the change of topic and hurried off before her mother could embarrass her. Angie's other sister Joanna came up to greet him as well.

"She's still upstairs getting ready," Joanna told him. "She should be down soon enough." George thanked her.

They wandered into the living room where Angie's father, Jason, sat watching television. He was a Muggle and an American to boot. As a result, the Johnson's house was filled with an interesting assortment of magical and non-magical trappings. The most obvious Miuggle apparel was an expansive American music collection and entertainment center. It was obvious where Angie's passion for Muggle music and technology came from. George sat down next to him and engaged in small talk for about ten minutes. Mr. Johnson stayed on generic topics, but gave George a encouraging wink when the women went upstairs to help Angelina. He was the only other person who knew of George's plan. George had called ahead of time to get permission to ask. He knew it was old fashioned, but he wanted to be on her father's good side. Mr. Johnson seemed to appreciate this gesture. He was a quiet man by nature, used to being overruled by three verbose women. Always the silent observer, he had watched George intently for the first few months of his and Angelina's relationship. He had warmed up once George proved himself and now they got along. He hit it off well with Mr. Weasley too, and was happy to have someone to show his Muggle things to. Mr. Johnson looked up from the television.

"Got a plan?" he asked George in his American accent.

"Yes sir." George forced down the butterflies.

"Good luck then," he smiled kindly at him. "She looks really pretty tonight. She's been upstairs tearing up my house for an hour getting ready. Like you don't know what she looks like anyway." George joined in his laughter. "I think Autumn suspects, but she hasn't said anything. Just a head's up," he nodded in thanks. Mrs. Weasley and Mrs. Johnson were terrible at keeping secrets, another reason why they were good friends and also ignorant of the plan.

The sounds of steps down the stairs announced the girls' presence before the men could see them.

Angelina, decked out in a light purple summer dress and wrap, smiled at him. "Ready?" she asked.

George nodded. He was more than ready.

* * *

**A/N: Here's another one. The big moment is coming, but don't worry, the story is going to go on past that. I have too many thoughts to end now. thanks for all of your kind words!**


	9. Chapter 9

"So," Angelina began once they stepped out onto her family's porch. "Where are we off to?"

"You'll see," George flashed her his most mischievous smile. She looked apprehensive, but she had that dangerous gleam in her eye. It was well known among their friends that when George smiled like that and when Angie got that look it could mean nothing but trouble.

George reached for her hand. "You look gorgeous, as usual." He felt that this was no exaggeration; her hair was in a hundred tiny curls that fell all over her head, her dress hugged her in the right places and she had a sort of glow about her whenever she felt giddy. She was giddy now.

"Weasley, you flatterer." she knocked her hips into his playfully. "You don't look so bad yourself." she gave him an approving once-over. George made a mental note to rub it in Fred's face the next day. Blue did not make him look spindly.

"Why, thank you. Are you ready?" she grasped his hand tightly and nodded.

"Do with me what you please." George's grin grew wider and his eyebrow arched up. Angie rolled her eyes. "Not like that George. Merlin's beard, we're on my parent's porch!" He laughed.

"Maybe some other time then. In the meantime," he pulled her close and disapparated. They landed in a field of sweet summer grass.

Angelina looked around at the unfamiliar surroundings. She didn't say anything, but smiled encouragingly at him. A light breeze stirred her skirt and she pressed herself closer to his side. George draped his arm over her shoulders and dropped a kiss on her forehead.

"Were we're headed is a little ways up. But I figured the weather was nice enough for a stroll."

"It is beautiful," she agreed as they started up a cobblestone path. They walked in comfortable silence, broken only by the occasional sound of the wind in the grass, an animal scampering by and George's whistling.

He was whistling their song and Angelina soon joined in, lending her voice to hum the harmony. George got more dramatic as they continued, eventually trying to sing all of the parts himself. When he got the lyrics wrong (purposely of course. He really knew every word) Angelina playfully corrected him and sang it herself. They critiqued the other's tone and pitch, raising their voices until they were practically shouting. The sun was beginning to cast a warm, orangey glow on the world as they walked hand in hand.

A few Muggles went by on bikes and gave them strange looks, but George only sang louder until Angie surrendered to a fit of giggles.

"Lay back in my tenderness, Let's make this a night we won't forget, Girl, I need your sweet caress!" he belted out the bridge while Angelina laughed at the Muggles pedaling away at top speed.

"I think you scared them with your singing, love." she giggled.

"I suppose I was just too good for them. Some blokes just can't appreciate fine music." he quipped happily.

"Reach out to a fantasy, two hearts in the beat of ecstasy," she sang as loudly as him.

"Come to me, girl," he pulled her in again, this time covering her mouth with his. She melted instantly into his embrace, kissing him back with all the fervor she could muster. George couldn't give a rat's hind parts that he was snogging openly in public; let them stare.

Angie pulled back first, out of breath and flushed. "You are trouble in a pretty package, George Weasley," she admonished jokingly.

"You love me for it," he ran his thumb along her cheek.

"I suppose I do," she sighed exaggeratedly. With a wicked smile, she pulled his face back down to hers. George got lost in her kisses for a second before he remembered the purpose of going out tonight. He detached himself from her with some effort.

"We'd better stop Ange. We'll never get where we're going if you keep tempting me like that." she pouted but took his hand again.

"Are we there yet?" she sing-songed in a childlike tone.

"Not yet. Almost." he said patiently. They walked a little farther, then turned off the road and onto a dirt path. He gave his girlfriend a piggy-back ride in an attempt to keep the dirt off of her dress. She clung to his shoulders as he trotted down the road, occasionally making horse sounds for her amusement. As they passed a small grove of orange trees, he sat her down.

"We're here," he announced. Angelina slid down off of his back.

She looked around for a moment. It appeared as if they were in the literal middle of nowhere. A great expanse of smooth dirt sat in front of them. She gave him a bewildered look.

"And where is here?" she asked after a moment.

"Here is a magical place," George answered matter-of-factly.

"Oh is it?" she played along.

"It is indeed. It can only be seen by the most deserving." he continued.

"Ah," Angelina mused. "And how do I become deserving?"

"By answering a series of questions. If you answer them correctly, 'here' will appear. Are you game, Johnson?"

She smirked. "Do your worst Weasley."

"Alright then. Question one," he held up a finger with flourish. "Do you love me?"

"Come now George. I thought they'd be harder than that. Of course I love you," she said in a pompous tone.

"Correct." Angelina laughed. "You're off to a good start. Question two," she looked expectantly at him, "Do you want to spend the rest of your life with me?"

She looked warmly at him. "More than anything," she said sincerely.

"Excellent answer." George beamed, "Well Miss Johnson. Here is your final question. It's got multiple parts. Please refrain from answering until I've finished." she nodded seriously. "The terms of spending eternity with me are as follows," He knelt on one knee. Her eyes widened to saucer-like proportions and her breathing became labored but she stayed silent. "Do you agree to put up with my jokes, love me when I'm cranky and when I've left my robes on the floor? Will you agree to have little monsters of children with me and put up with them when they turn out to be as bad as Fred and I? And will you, Angelina Johnson, take my name and be my wife?"

Angelina took a sharp breath. George pulled the ring out of his jacket pocket. He flipped the cover open but her eyes remained locked on his face.

"Yes," she said breathily. "Yes I will."

"Forever?" he questioned.

"Yes, forever. And an eternity after that," she clarified.

"Guess what Ange?" he smiled at her.

"What?" her eyes were shiny and her face had split into a huge smile.

"You passed." he gingerly slid the ring onto her finger, taking a second to admire the contrast of the platinum band with her skin. The tears finally escaped from her eyes as she looked at the diamond, then her new fiancée.

"Oh, George. I love you. So, so much!" she proclaimed through her tears. George stood up and faced her.

"I love you too," his lips found hers again. They kissed for what felt like ages, until he pulled back. "The ring is only part one of the surprise," Angelina looked confused. "Look," he grasped her shoulders and rotated her gently.

She let out a cry of delighted surprise. Behind them the house had begun to fade into view from the moment she said yes. The orchard came in first, one tree at a time, then the flat expanse of lawn. Then the foundation burst up from the ground like a sped up film reel of a tree growing. The porch branched off of that, then the front wall and door, and onward and upward until the whole house sat in front of them, illuminated by the sunset.

She turned toward him in shock. "How did you…?"

"It took me ages to work out the charm on something as big as a house, but I got it." he smiled. "And as for the house itself? A lovely Muggle bloke sold it too me. He seemed to think it was a hopeless case. I believe he said, you'd need to be magic to fix it. Which fortunately, we are. So I figured we could make it the way we wanted to and then start a life in it. And I know you wanted to pay for half," he said before she could protest, "but the house is going to take quite a bit of work. And you always were better at decorating then me. So we'll call it even," he finished.

Angelina looked completely overwhelmed. She opened her mouth several times but seemed to be lacking the verbal fortitude to express her feeling. She simply kept alternating between smiling and kissing him all over the face.

"Want to go in?" he asked amusedly after her fifth kiss and tenth 'I love you.' She nodded. He took her hand and led her in.

Ange seemed to recover her voice once they crossed the threshold. "It's beautiful!" she exclaimed over and over again as he led her through the rooms. Her smile grew wider, as did George's, until it was nearly painful.

They ate dinner in the kitchen, sprawled out on conjured cushions on the hardwood floor. Angelina complimented him on everything, and continued bubbling over his actions.

"You're too bloody perfect George. How long did it take you to plan this?"

George swallowed his strawberry. "A while," he admitted. "Want to know something funny?" she nodded and wiped a bit of whipped cream off of the side of his mouth. "I wanted to ask you first at Ron and Hermione's rehearsal dinner."

She looked surprised, then laughed. "Oh my gosh! Percy beat you to it?"

He nodded as she erupted in laughter. "Then I thought I'd ask you at their wedding. It didn't really work out." her laughter intensified and he joined her. "Then I figured out anniversary was as safe bet, until that little bugger of a kid at the store gave you a cold."

Angelina's whole body shook with mirth. "Poor baby. You had a rough time of it." she kissed him on the cheek. "No matter though. You got it right in the end."

"Did I?" he asked.

"You got it very right. You got it perfect. I still can't believe it. I must be dreaming."

He kissed her passionately, pushing the dishes aside and laying her on the floor. She wrapped her arms around his neck and dragged him closer, nearly overturning a bottle of wine. George wrapped her in his arms and let his hands trail down her body, coming to rest at he rear. He goosed her hard. She pulled back in shock.

"Still think you're dreaming?" he laughed at her expression. She rolled her eyes and goosed him back. They wrestled for a moment before she got up and sprinted away. George pursued her hotly through the downstairs then up the stairs and into the master bedroom. She ran giggling away until he tackled her. They would have hit the floor, but he managed to conjure a mattress under them just in time. They fell onto it in an explosion of cushions and bedding. Angelina shifted until she was comfortable, resting her head on George's chest. She stared at her left hand lovingly, then back up at him.

"Can we stay here tonight?" she whispered as they drifted off.

"Hmm-hmmm," George confirmed. "And every night after that."

The look she gave him said it all.

* * *

**A/N: There it was! I had a blast writing that. It's not the end, I promise. I've got a few more chapters in mind. Stick with me folks, and as always, thank you for the reviews!**


	10. Chapter 10

This was madness. The thought played over and over in George's head like a mantra. This was completely mental.

The source of his distress was a group of photographers and reporters who had made it their personal mission to harass him and his fiancée at all hours of the day, slap it on the front of page 6 and call it news. George had other, more colorful ways of describing it. It wasn't as though he wasn't used to reporters. As the owner of a joke store, big brother to Harry Potter's best friend and a reluctant war hero, George had been subjected to a fair amount of publicity, both good and bad. He had never been bothered by it until now.

He didn't know how they found out, but apparently someone thought that the fact that both Ginny Weasley and Angelina Johnson were sporting engagement bands was news the world should be aware of. Then someone at the ministry had sold Percy out as well. And now the press was having a field day. _Potter off the Market_, the first headline had read. They family had gotten a hearty laugh about that one and teased Harry when fan mail insisting that he rethink his decision and marry someone else had flooded in his new Auror office in droves from mother's, daughters and all manner of witches (and curiously enough a Muggle or two). It continued until he was forced to hire someone to screen his mail for a few days. Ginny found this less than amusing and had taken to sending back some rather interesting letters of her own to those who were unintelligent enough to include their return address.

Before that incident even had the time to blow over, a reporter from _Witch Weekly _began to stake out the Burrow. At first she requested an interview with Molly about how her children's love lives were going. His mother had naturally spilled, providing fuel for the fire. They had then began to show up to the shop in greater numbers and even haunted the Ministry and Gringotts, eager for a shot of any of the Weasleys, including Fleur, Audrey, Hermione and Harry. Bill had put a stop to it at Gringotts almost immediately by sending goblins to greet the cameramen. So far he and Fleur had escaped the firestorm. The rest were not so lucky.

George was no exception. After the World Cup, where he had announced that Weasley's Wizard Wheezes was going international, it had been a nonstop firestorm. He supposed he was partly to blame; he had naively granted a reporter an interview, thinking it was about the shop. It was more about how rich he was quickly becoming. After the article ran, he began receiving fan mail of his own. Angelina was seriously considering taking a page out of Ginny's book when the situation escalated. She became the next target. Apparently, it was fascinating that George and her were engaged and reporters were clamoring for their love story. When Angelina and George politely declined comment, as did their friends and family, an interesting article told from the perspective of Pansy Parkinson surfaced, claiming that she had known all along that George and Angelina were having a secret, torrid affair at Hogwarts, including late night trysts that might make a stripper blush. Angelina had snorted out right when asked to comment on the story. Lee had found it hilarious and contributed a bit to the rumor until a reporter showed up at his and Alicia's flat to ask him about it. Alicia was less then pleased. Lee no longer found it funny.

And just like that, the Weasleys and Harry had become the British Wizarding World's most eligible non-bachelors. And their respective women were becoming increasingly more angry. The only one enjoying the attention was Charlie, who was single and therfore able to capatilize off of all the women clamoring after him.

The most notable example of said pissed-ffedness, from George's own girlfriend, occurred when Angelina was in Madame Malkin's looking at gowns and Rita Skeeter and her photographer had shoved in and demanded an interview. Angelina had pushed the quill out of her face had suggested a less than polite place Skeeter could shove it instead. Of course, a mild scandal ensued. When questioned about it, George merely suggested that Skeeter follow Angelina's advice.

In attempt to stem the attention, Weasley's Wizard Wheezes removed their advertising from the _Prophet _and all similar publications and now advertised exclusively through the wireless and promotion fliers and posters. Defense and shield spells similar to the ones used during the War were kept constantly around his shops, the Burrow, Ron and Hermione's house, Shell Cottage and George and Angelina's house to ward off anyone who even had a camera or quik-notes quill in their robes. Harry moved in with Ron and Hermione for the time being and they were all on constant alert for reporters.

It worked for the most part. That was, until any of them needed to venture outside. This was one of those occasions and the reason George was now getting dangerously close to the end of his fuse. He and Angie had simply wanted to take a walk and pick up some things for the house. Unfortunately, the road to the shops was being blocked. Flash bulbs exploded and smoked all around them and reporters pushed each other and shouted questions.

"Miss Johnson!" one yelled, "what's it like being engaged to one of the richest men in Britain?" Angelina looked frustrated. George grasped her hand and glanced over at her. She was teetering on the brink of tears, and possibly her sanity.

"George!" another shoved a magical recording device under his face, "is it true Angelina dated Fred? Was it serious?"

"What about wedding plans?" a third shouted.

"Yes, flash us your ring!" a witch from the teenage tabloids suggested.

Instead Angelina turned towards her fiancé. Her face said it all.

"On three," George said directly in here ear. They had suspected something like this might happen and had a backup plan. She nodded. "One, two, three!" The pair side-along disappaarated with a loud crack, startling the reporters. As a bonus, George had thrown some Peruvian Darkness Powder that he had altered slightly. It would leave them in pitch black darkness for about an hour and treat them all to the constant smell of dung bombs.

He and Angie landed in an alleyway in the Muggle world. Quickly Angie pulled Muggle clothing out of her bag and the two changed hastily and beat it into London. They could get furniture here easily enough, but they would be forced to cart it all back into this alley way and shrink it.

"I don't know how much more I can handle," Angelina sighed a moment later. George rubbed her shoulders comfortingly.

"I'm sure it'll all die down soon. I'm not that interesting. They'll find some other bloke to stalk." Angelina didn't look convinced.

"I don't know George. What if it's like this for the rest of our lives? What if they crash the wedding? They've already bothered my parents and my sisters at school…" the tears flowed over this time. George hugged her tightly.

"We can find some way around them, I'm sure. Hermione's already trying to make it illegal for them to show up to a home or place of business uninvited…" Angelina shook with a little sob.

"I know. And I'm sorry, it's just…I can't go anywhere! They ruined fixing our house, they ruined it when Audrey, Ginny and I went to look at gowns. They're ruining everything and I just can't deal with it anymore! I swear, the next person I see with a camera I'm going to curse!" she chuckled bitterly into his shirt. "They even tried to follow me to the doctors the other day. I had to go and make an appointment at the one here in London…"

"What did you need the doctor for?" George asked, alarmed. "Are you sick?"

"No! Nothing like that!" Angelina suddenly looked extremely nervous. "I was hoping to tell you sometime today, but they interfered as usual…" she looked angry again and George cleared his throat to bring her back.

"What were you going to tell me?" he asked.

Her cheeks flushed, but her eyes sparkled. "George, I think I might be pregnant."

George's vision swum and he thanked his luck that they were in a secluded spot in the Muggle world. Pregnant? How? Well, he knew how. In fact, if he thought logically about it, he probably even knew when. But that seemed so soon. And they had been careful hadn't they? A sudden memory of an impromptu early morning rendezvous on the mattress they slept on upstairs flashed through his mind. Oh, whoops.

He looked at Angelina who was watching him expectantly with an unsure expression. "I'm not positive I am yet. Obviously I need to see the doctor…but I am late and I thought perhaps---" she ended her sentence early when George's face split into a wide grin.

"That's great! That's bloody fantastic! Pregnant, wow…"

Angelina looked immensely relieved. "So your not mad? I thought you might be, you know, surprised."

"I am," he admitted. "But it's still brilliant news! Mum will be thrilled!" she gave him a skeptical look, "well, she will be once she's gotten over the fact that we're having 'adult relations'" he finger quoted. "But still…"

"Well, it's not for sure yet," but she too was sporting a huge grin and her sour disposition from earlier seemed to have evaporated.

"When's you appointment?" he questioned.

"Not until Friday of next week." Hell, that was nearly a week.

"There's got be another way to find out," he mused. "Do you witches have any tricks?"

Angelina pondered it for a moment. "I don't know if witches do, but I know a trick Muggle women use." George rose an eyebrow.

"How do we do it?"

15 minutes later he found himself in a drugstore in an aisle full of pink colored, embarrassing products. Angelina was rifting through a shelf until she pulled out a slender, rectangular box.

"Here it is," she announced.

George skimmed the back of the box. "You pee on it and it tells you?" he asked incredulously. "Merlin's beard the things Muggles do…" a Muggle woman in a blazer cast them a curious look. Angelina shushed him.

"My Mum used it before. I think it works." she assured him.

"So let's get you to a loo." he began to gently push her out of the aisle.

"Not yet!" she braced her feet and admonished him. "We'll never forgive ourselves if we don't get at least one thing we came out for in the first place."

"Angie," he protested, "I think this takes precedent." But she shot him her no-arguing look. So he sighed as she paid for the mysterious Muggle piss stick, thanking his stars he had managed to get her to agree to by a large bottle of juice as a compromise. She drank it as she drug him to some sort of hardware store. It was amazing how much Muggles were forced to buy themselves without magic. They grabbed a catalogue of furniture and little strips with color schemes on them to give them ideas for the house, thanked the clerk and hurried out.

"Wait," Angelina protested as he pulled her back toward the alley that was still a few blocks away. "I can't run that fast! All that juice shot through me!" George almost laughed but nerves spurred him on.

"Bloody hell, Ange! You're going to give me a nervous attack! Let's go home so you can take a bloody piss already!" a group of passersby shot them alarmed looks. Angelina looked amused.

"Alright, here," she shoved them off the sidewalk and into a crowded park. Some sort of loud concert was taking place. A group of young people wearing all black but sporting neon-colored, vertical hair styles were head banging near the stage. George watched them as Angie dragged him toward the outskirts.

"What are we doing?" she shushed him again and pulled him into a foul-smelling, plastic blue cubical at the edge of the park.

"It's a porta-potty." she explained. "An outdoor loo."

"Ange, I think we can wait to get home. I don't want to do this in here…" she just rolled her eyes, grabbed his hand and apparated them home.

"Better?" she asked. They were standing in the master bedroom of their new house. George nodded, pulled out the bag and tossed the small box at her.

"Go." he instructed. Angelina nodded giddily and bounced off to the bathroom.

* * *

**A/N: Told you there was more! Up next, the results of the "piss stick"! Thanks so much for the response to the last chapter! It was overwhelming! **


	11. Chapter 11

Angelina was pressed against his body, sleeping in the crook of his arm. Her chest rose and fell rhythmically in time with her breathing. Normally, this was enough to lull George to sleep. Tonight, however, his mind was racing far too quickly to do any sleeping. He looked down at his girlfriend, tucked under the sheets, and imagined the flat contours of her stomach rounded. Pregnancy. It was a stunning concept to him. He suspected Ange had a better handle on the mysteries of the female physique, being a woman and all. He was still locked in a sort of childlike wonder that another human being could grow inside of his girlfriend. He remembered his nervousness earlier as the two of them sat on their brand new, four poster, king sized bed with that little plastic strip between them.

Angie had grasped his hand without really thinking about it, and the two sat locked, waiting for the little thing to tell them if their lives were going to experience a radical change. What seemed like hours later, a small black line faded into view. After frantically consulting the back of the box, they confirmed it's meaning. Negative.

A heavy moment of silence had followed this discovery. Then Angie smiled bracingly and tried to act as though she wasn't disappointed. He had returned her smile, and offered some sort of joke about not having to resize her wedding dress to comfort her. The silence as the two went to work on decorating the master bedroom was deafening. Sure, they joked, and painting the room had been fun enough. But it was strained.

And now George was laying in the ever present silence, staring at the newly painted blue wall and thinking. That little plastic piss stick seemed to put in perspective everything he never even knew he wanted. Of course, he knew he wanted kids and he knew he wanted them with Angie. But he didn't know he had wanted them _now_. The prospect that a little bundle of joy could be on the way had excited him, and Angie too, a bright spot in the stress that had clouded the world lately. And sure, it wasn't the worst thing in the world that she wasn't pregnant now; that could complicate wedding plans and their parents wouldn't be too tickled. Still, they wanted to be pregnant. They were both ready to be parents.

George exhaled slowly and looked down at his girl. She looked peaceful, rested and calm, a facial expression that had been a rarity in the last few weeks. Planning a wedding was stressful, opening more stores was stressful, being constantly followed and scrutinized was stressful. It seemed like stress was seeping into every crack of their lives. Angie hadn't been joking when she said she feared that the press would crash their wedding. To be honest with himself, George worried about it too. At this rate he was likely only going to get richer, and it was going to be a long while before the reporters let up on him.

So what to do? He knew he had to ease the stress somewhere. The store issues would be resolved soon enough, but there was no way to speed up that process. He could do very little about reporters besides harass them when they got too invasive. That left the wedding. Cancelling that was not an option. He scoured his brain for some way to make it easier on the pair of them. Did they really need a big wedding? He and Angie had never been the type for big productions, at least not when it came to their personal lives. And his mum was so busy with planning the other two weddings, surely she wouldn't mind a little relief herself.

The idea struck him so suddenly he was forced to resist the urge to shout "eureka!"

"Ange," he shook her gently.

She blinked awake slowly and looked at him. "What is it?" she yawned blearily.

"I have an idea." she rolled over and looked at him.

"It can't wait until a decent hour? Say, not at 2 in the morning?" she glanced at the clock.

"No. It can't," he assured her confidently.

"Alright then," she sat up and gave him her full attention. "What is it?"

"I've had a thought about our wedding." he said. She looked on expectantly. "You know how the reporters are being bloody little buggers?"

"You mean harassing us every time we step foot out of our door?" she said simply.

"Exactly. They'll likely be sniffing around for months. And I don't want to wait until they've gotten bored with us to get married."

"Me neither," she leaned her head on his shoulder. "I don't see how we can get around it though," she sighed.

"I do." she looked up at him. "Let's get married now."

"Right now?" she asked him, shocked.

"Yes." he hopped out of bed.

"I don't know if you've noticed, love, but it's two in the bloody morning!"

"It is," he agreed cheerily.

"And we haven't got a wedding planned."

"We don't need a plan," he said as he went to their closet.

"We haven't got a cake, or tuxes, or a dress, or even invitations!" she protested.

"Are we magical or not?" he asked her simply as she watched him root through their closet. "And as for invitations, who do you want to invite that we can't just owl?" Angie looked bewildered.

"Alright, but it's still two in the morning!" she exclaimed as she dragged herself out of bed. "We can't get married now. I don't understand what you're doing…." she touched his shoulder. George turned around to face her.

"My parents eloped you know. Right out of school. All they needed was a preacher. And Ange, we've never been one for all the flash. And if we do the whole white wedding, it won't be our day. There'll be news and hundreds of people we don't even know, much less care about and we'll have to smile and be polite and worry about place settings and champagne and being politically correct. And we've got enough stress at the moment, I think, without all that." Angelina listened to him wide eyed.

"You want to elope?" she asked him. He nodded. "Alright," she raised her eyebrows in surprise, but her tone suggested she didn't mind the thought. "But why right now?"

"I want to get everyone all together right now, when all the tossers from the _Prophet _and all those other places are asleep. I want to get my family and your family and Lee and Alicia and Katie and Oliver up, I want to tell them to apparate into that alleyway we were in today. And I want to meet them there, walk across the street to the courthouse and I want to marry you." Angelina's face reflected nothing but shock. "Look," he clarified. "I know it's last minute. But today, when we were waiting for that little piss stick to turn blue, I realized that I don't want to wait; I don't want our wedding to be overshadowed by stress. I want to get married and get to work on making that little stick turn the color we wanted it to turn today."

His fiancée stared at him for nearly half a minute before saying something. "How long do you think it will take to get everyone together?" she said finally. Her face broke into her mischievous smile and George mentally let out the breath he had been holding.

"So we're going to do this?" he asked her.

"Bloody right, we're going to do this. This is one of the best ideas you've come up with in a while, Weasley. We have to capitalize on this." She shoved past him and into the closet. She seized a hanger against the back wall.

"What's that?" he asked.

"My dress. And you can't see it yet." she added smugly. "I'm going to go to Alicia and Lee's first and wake them, then I'm going to take Alicia and got to my parent's house to get dressed where I will try to get a hold of Oliver. You are going to get a decent suit on and go to Ron and Hermione's place and get them and Harry. Then you're going to go to your house and get up your family, send for Charlie, Percy, Bill and Fleur. And we're all going to meet in an hour and a half in that alleyway." she instructed matter-of-factly. She grabbed a pair of heels of the shelf and began packing a bag.

"Yes ma'mm," he smiled cheekily at her.

"And remember," she turned to him again. "the faster we get this done, the faster we can get to work on making sure that stick turns blue next time." she looked warmly at him. George seized her, pulled her in, and laid a brusque kiss on her lips.

"I'll see you there," he said a moment later. Angelina nodded dazedly.

"I love you," she said.

"I love you too," he pulled her in again. "Thanks for agreeing to this,"

"Of course. I can't believe we didn't think of it earlier." she wrapped her arms around him before abruptly pulling back. "Now get going! Time is ticking!"

George summoned his things to him with a wave of his wand. "Till 3:30 then."

"'Till 3:30," she agreed.

And that was how, after the most hectic hour and a half of his life, George found himself packed tight into a Muggle courtroom, holding Angelina's hand. To say their family and friends were bewildered was an understatement. Ron had nearly cursed him when he apparated into he and Hermione's flat. Alicia had yelled at Angelina for nearly five minutes straight until Angelina could get out why she had apparated into their drawing room. Molly had screamed when George arrived and Ginny had calmly asked him if he had gone mental. Harry stared blearily at them all and Angelina's father looked upset that his sleep had been interrupted. However, they were able to get their point across after some long winded explanations and some mild bribing. And now the most mix-matched group of Muggles, witches and wizards, men and women and tired and alert people were packed shoulder to shoulder while a confused Muggle bloke stared back at them.

"You want to get married now?" he asked incredulously.

"No better time, mate!" George said cheerily. The man regarded his mother and father--dressed in a violet witche's robe and a golf sweater and kilt respectively-- curiously. Molly smiled brightly at him, then elbowed her husband.

"Oh right," Mr. Weasley agreed. "Our whole family likes to get married in the dead of the morning."

At this point, Mr. Johnson, who was generally well spoken, stepped in to avert the oncoming crisis. He pulled the man aside and George vaguely heard some lie about a terminal illness and an impending family crisis before the man looked at them all again.

"Alright," he agreed reluctantly. "Let's go then."

And so George and Angelina took vows. Angelina was wearing a cream colored, off the shoulder dress she had transfigured herself. Someone had pinned a makeshift veil to the mass of brown curls piled on top of her head in a simple updo. Joanna had shoved a dozen white roses into Angie's hand and Bill had shoved a matching flower into George's black coat. The rest of the group was in various states; the women all looked as though they had put effort into their appearances. The men on the other hand represented various states of undress: Lee had donned a suit but had neglected to change out of his carpet shoes; Ron still had a bit of toothpaste on the corner of his mouth, Harry's hair made him look as though he had suffered an electric shock, Oliver had hastily changed out of his Quidditch robes and into a wrinkled dress shirt and tie. Charlie, who operated on a different time than the rest of his family, smelled like sulfur and meat from coming straight from work. Percy clung to a confused Audrey's hand, looking unpolished for once. Victorie fussed into her mother's dress while Fleur (who looked perfect as usual) fussed with Bill's hair. Ginny stood next to a sleepy looking Hermione and tried to inconspicuously coax the bushy curls of her sister-in-laws hair down. They looked mental, but they were a family and George would have it no other way. Peaking out from his mother's big bag was Fred's portrait. Fred was trying very hard to sit still, but he winked at George when the Muggle man turned his back toward them.

Molly cried loudly during the vows, and Lee nearly knocked a candle onto the marriage certificate. When asked who would sign as a witness, there was a momentary riot as everyone tried to push forward at once. In the end, George chose Charlie. The vows were standard. There was no photographer save for Mr. Johnson who had the presence of mind to bring a Muggle camera. Cake was served later in George and Angie's new kitchen. Guests sat on a mixture of self-conjured chairs and drank coffee that Molly made. Ron gave an impromptu best man speech; Angelina threw the bouquet over her shoulder in the backyard (Ginny caught it). They had their first dance to one of his quill radios while Lee drunkenly warbled on with Oliver.

It was perfect. Angelina could not stop smiling. Once the guests, exhausted, had all passed out on conjured mattresses in their living room and Fred's portrait was safely propped away from the fireplace, she dragged him upstairs. They collapsed on the bed.

"So, Mrs. Weasley, did that meet your standards?" he stroked her arm.

"Exceeded them," she planted a loving kiss on his lips.

"We can do it properly later. I just figured we could do something, you know, just for us." Angelina smiled again.

"It was brilliant. Nothing says 'proper wedding' like watching your best man turn bright red and stutter through his speech," she giggled.

"Or having the father of the bride lie to get the us married in the first place." Angelina's laughter escalated. "We'll go out tomorrow and get rings."

"Let's get gaudy ones as a joke until we have the proper wedding. That'll really piss off that Skeeter woman. She might get fired for missing that scoop." George grinned.

"I like how your mind works Mrs. Weasley." he kissed her.

"Say it again," Angelina instructed.

"Mrs. Weasley," he whispered. Angelina's eyes darkened.

"Again,"

"Mrs. Weasley," he repeated, fusing his lips to hers.

"I like being Mrs. Weasley," she breathed against his lips a moment later.

"You're going to like it even more in a minute," George teased and flipped her over. He barely remembered to cast a silencing spell on the door before they got to work on the second part of their deal.

Time to turn that little stick blue….

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**A/N: Whew! So there was a little delay due to Halloween and me spending more time out then writing, but I hope you will all forgive me. That chapter may have taken you by surprise, but that was my plan. I still have a chapter or two more planned, so hang in there! **


	12. Chapter 12

A half dozen pots bubbled over on the top of the stove and the magical flame beneath them hissed angrily. The timer on the oven was ringing, a skillet was now smoking and he was certain that he would have to start the rice all over again. George had no idea how his mother or Angie managed this all. He was trying to have dinner on the table before his wife got home. At this rate, it'd be a miracle if he managed to clean the pans out and restart before she returned. He sighed and rubbed his eyes. Bloody hell, this shouldn't be this hard. He could cook, couldn't he?

The issue was, he was cooking something he had never even heard of, let alone eaten. Angie had developed an insatiable desire for Mexican food, a favorite of her fathers. George had done his best to stem it, but as Mexican food wasn't readily found in the UK, he found it difficult. Angie's mother had tried to slip him some tips, and with her help, he had mastered the burrito and then the taco.

He was trying out something new, enchiladas, rice and beans, as a surprise for Angie. It was a special occasion after all, and lately he'd been trying to make things as comfortable as he could for her. But if he was going to make that happen, he needed to move fast. With a wave of his wand the flames were off; with another, the food that could be salvaged floated across the room and into bowls on the dining room tables. He thanked his luck that he had mastered cleaning spells as he wiped down the kitchen until it was sparkling.

He got the rice back out, and took it one step at a time. Halfway through measuring out water the Muggle way, he realized that he had yet to get the enchiladas out of the over. Thankfully they were alright as he had mercifully turned the heat off before he had cleaned. George just managed to get the food all on the table when the clock in the living room chimed twice.

He hurriedly checked to make sure he wasn't covered in food before turning the grandfather clock. The clock had two hands, one marked for him and the other for Angelina. Angelina's hand was turning quickly, heading from "out" to "traveling" then finally home. The clock had been a gift from his great Aunt Muriel, and had been bestowed upon them half a year prior at their more "official" wedding. It matched almost identically the one in his parent's house, except it was full sized.

Angelina burst through the front door. Her face was rapt with color, her eyes wide and her lips pulled back in a face-splitting smile. She pulled off her traveling coat and hung it on the hook. Normally when she returned home she looked a bit more disgruntled. It was difficult to travel now that she couldn't apparate or use the Floo Network. Today though, she looked radiant.

"How'd it go?" George greeted her brightly.

"It went great! I've found out!" she bubbled after kissing him briefly.

She turned a bit too quickly and George was forced to step back a bit to avoid hitting her. Angelina giggled and apologized, laying her hand protectively over her stomach.

"Sorry, it takes a bit to get used to it." George just grinned at her.

"I've got a surprise for you," her face lit up.

"Is it Mexican food?" George laughed.

"How'd you know?"

"I could smell it as I came up the street. I swear my senses are all haywire right now. I can smell everything. This bloke at the doctor's office had on the most awful cologne. I nearly was sick…" she trailed off as she headed toward the dining room.

"Sorry about that love. So what did the doctor say?" George had wanted to go with her, but there had been a mild crisis at work. Apparently some kid in Bruges thought it would be hilarious to set out nearly 35 headless hats around the local Muggle community and watch people run around like chickens with their heads cut off. The ministry was furious and George had to help clean up, close the shop until the investigation was complete and personally ban the wizard from his shop for all eternity. He had been less than pleased that he had to miss his wife's appointment but it would all be alright now.

Angelina was about 3 months pregnant. She was beginning to show a little bit; the smooth plane of her stomach had rounded just slightly. She had been fortunate enough to get through her first trimester without morning sickness, but her food cravings had started almost immediately. They were apparently in full swing; She had already filled herself a plate. George watched her amusedly form a moment. So far they had managed to keep their pregnancy a family secret, but if she kept eating like that, someone was bound to notice. George considered teasing her, but then thought better of it. She looked up at him.

"Sorry," she smiled bashfully at him and sat the plate down.

"Well?" he pulled out a chair for her and sat down in the one next to it.

"I didn't look," she said.

"What do you mean? You went to the doctor today to find out!"

"I did! And the doctor does know! He took an ultrasound," George had recently found out what this was. He and Angie had gone to a Muggle bookstore and bought nearly every book on the shelf about babies and pregnancy. Until they could be open about their pregnancy in the wizard world, Angie was making frequent trips to a doctor in London.

"And…" George spurred her on.

"And I had him put it in this envelope," she reached down to her feet and retrieved a large, manila envelope from her bag. "I thought we could find out together."

George grinned. "Do you want to open it?"

"You do it," she slid the envelope toward him.

George lifted it gingerly. "You sure?"

Angie nodded. "Do it."

George slid a finger under the lip of the envelope. "So once we look at the picture, we'll know if it's a girl or a boy?"

Angelina smiled. "That's what the doctor said."

A sudden thought struck George. "What if we can't tell?" at his wife's confused look, he clarified. "I thought the books said it could be difficult sometimes. What if we look and can't see anything?"

Angie's eyes widened. "Well, I'm sure he marked it or something. He is a doctor after all." George looked skeptical. "Open it an we'll find out."

The next moment passed in extreme slow motion. George slid his finger under the adhesive and pulled the lip up. He reached in, but couldn't fish the photographs out. He flipped it upside down and shook it to no avail. Angelina watched him for a moment before prying it out of his hand.

"Here, my hands are smaller." she smiled at him and accomplished what he had been trying to do in five seconds. "Ready?" she asked.

"Ready," he nodded. Angelina flipped the picture over.

George was stunned. On a tiny sheet of rectangular shaped paper was a tiny black and white photograph. And in that black and white photograph was the outline of a baby. George picked up the photo on top and brought it closer to his face. He could see the outline of the baby's face, nose and eyes and lips, and hands and arms, stomach and then…

"It's a--" Angelina began.

"BOY!" George looked down at the undeniably male organ and back at his wife.

"a boy…." she repeated, stunned.

"Mum's going to go mental. A granddaughter and grandson." George sat back in his chair.

"My parents are going to be grandparents." Angie mused.

"_We're_ going to be parents." George was still having trouble wrapping his mind around it.

"of a little boy." Angelina looked at him for a moment, her eyes shiny. She lunged at him, nearly overturning her plate. George caught her in his arms and held her close. His hand unconsciously sought out her stomach.

"So a boy…." George smiled. "He's going to be a little monster."

"Just like his father." Angelina laughed and kissed him.

"And his uncle." George thought about what Fred's portrait would say when he found out.

"What should we name him?" Angelina curled up in his lap and laid her head on his chest.

George thought about it. He went through a list of popular boy's names: John, Alfred, Arthur, after his father… Then as if Angie had read his mind, and his heart, she spoke.

"How about Fred?" she suggested quietly.

"I think Fred sounds perfect." he agreed. Angelina smiled at him.

"Fred. Our son Fred."

"I think Fred number one would like that." George laughed with the thought.

"He'd love it." Angie agreed.

Dinner was temporarily forgotten as the two blissfully contemplated the arrival of another Fred Weasley.

6 months later Fred Weasley II came screaming into the world. He had been reluctant to leave, stubborn, just like his mother, and put Angelina and George through 12 hours of stress and pain. Angie had been like a machine, bellowing and crushing his hand and insisting that she didn't need a pain charm. In the end though, her desire to do things the natural way had lost out to a healer insisting that if they didn't move things along, the baby's health could be compromised. So with a few charms, some pushing and a few screamed curses, Fred was born and George and Angelina became parents.

Their families passed around all 8lbs, 12 oz of the newest Weasley. He had a head full of curly dark hair, light brown eyes and smooth skin the color of peanut butter. Mrs. Weasley and Mrs. Johnson cried, Mr. Johnson smiled brighter than George had ever seen him smile, his brothers and father gave him hardy back pats, and his sister, Angie's sisters and the rest of the girls cooed and squealed over the baby until the healers forced them all out, leaving the brand new family alone.

Angelina scooted over in the freshly cleaned bed to make room for her husband. She was cradling baby Fred to her chest. Her hair was plastered to her face, and she had just been healed minutes ago, but she looked radiant. George slid under the covers next to her.

"You're amazing, you know that?" he whispered in her ear as he pushed her hair back. "How do you feel?"

"Exhausted, my hair is a mess and I'm still a bit sore, but brilliant," she leaned back into him.

He kissed her forehead. "You look beautiful," she gave him a smile. Fred stirred in her arms. They watched him for a moment in silence.

"Want to hold your son?" she asked.

It was awkward at first. The only babies George had ever held were Ginny and Victorie. He was hardly an expert in the subject. For a moment he was struck with an intense fear, a realization that he had no idea how to be a father. His son fussed when George took him. But Angelina calmly walked over and adjusted his arm slightly, making sure it supported Fred's neck. The baby settled down immediately.

"There," Angie kissed him lightly on the lips. George rocked him for a second, content to lay in silence with his wife and son. "Did you notice his eyes?" Angelina asked after a moment.

As if taking a cue from his mother, Fred opened his eyes and looked up at his father. His eyes were toffee brown, the same color of his namesakes' eyes. The same color as _his_ eyes. Fred's eyes drifted closed again as he fell asleep. George looked up at his wife.

"He's perfect." George stated.

"Of course. We're his parents aren't we?" they shared a laugh.

"We're parents," George repeated. "That's bloody brilliant!" Angie laughed so hard a healer came bursting into the room and demanded that George let his wife and son sleep. He got up reluctantly, relinquished Fred to Angie and gave her a kiss.

"See you when they let me out," Angie joked. "I love you."

"I love you too."

George made a quick pit stop at home to check on everything and make sure it was ready for the baby. On his way in the front door, he saw the clock in the living room. It now had a third hand. George went over closer to inspect it. Sandwiched between he and Angie's hands was a tiny silver piece labeled "Fred."

George smiled as he prepared to go back to St. Mungo's, wondering how many more hands he and his wife would add before their family was complete.

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**A/N: And there you have it! I think I'm going to wrap this story up with that. I hope you enjoyed it. Thanks for all of your support! Let me know what you think!**


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